


And If I Kiss You (or 5 Times Zayn and Harry Kissed. Kind of)

by bouquetiere



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cutesy fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouquetiere/pseuds/bouquetiere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for this prompt at the <a href="http://britishsexual.livejournal.com/785.html?thread=12049#t12049"> Zarry Ficathon</a>: KISSING!FIC - JUST LOTS AND LOTS OF KISSING - SLOW, FAST, LAZY REALLY DETAILED LOVELY KISSING<br/>ENDING IN SMUT? YOUR CHOICE - A 5 TIMES WOULD WORK FAB BUT JUST - KISSING REALLY</p>
            </blockquote>





	And If I Kiss You (or 5 Times Zayn and Harry Kissed. Kind of)

**Author's Note:**

> This was probably one of my favorite fills I've ever done. I have a gross soft spot for Zarry and I forgot that I had even done this until last night and it just gave me feels so yeah, here we go! Title taken from the Ed Sheeran song "Little Bird"

1 

The first time Zayn and Harry kiss, it’s long overdue.

Their thing wasn’t much of a secret to anyone who sees them the most…but it’s only a thing to everyone but them.

Louis makes kissy noises if they walk to the back of the bus so Zayn can _“play him that new Frank Ocean/Drake/Kanye record mate, you’re gonna love it_ ”. And sometimes Harry will wish they’d do something, wish he would close the 2 inches of space between them but always holds himself back, wincing a little when Frank croons “ _I could never make him love me.”_ and curiously wondering what it means when Zayn sadly sings along with him.

*

If Zayn walks in to Harry and Niall’s hotel room to watch Teen Wolf _because it’s Tuesday_ _and that’s just what they do, that’s just how it’s always been_ , Niall will stop what he’s reading/eating/watching, roll his eyes and leave the room. Zayn will try to pretend like he didn’t hear Niall mutter “Bloody love birds and their stupid dog show.” because…

“They’re not dogs, dammit, they’re wolves.” Harry finally quips after the 5th or 6th time it happens, his face reddening immediately, eyes focused on the screen.

Zayn smiles, realizing what he didn’t correct, and for a brief second he feels like maybe, just maybe they have a thing.

*

Liam just takes Daddy Direction a step further to Mrs. George in Mean Girls and no one is surprised. He’ll lend Zayn his headphone splitter with a wink, leave rom-coms in Harry’s bunk with a note (“ _Have you and Z seen this one yet? Omg, so great! Watch it tonight so we can talk about it at breakfast, yeah? Love you both, Li xo_ ”), offer to buy the two of them dinner on one of their nights off. He doesn’t say anything too blatant, but every time Liam does something like this both boys get that feeling in their tummies, and Harry shies away, makes excuses, and Zayn wonders if he’ll ever let him just make a move. 

*

When they finally kiss, Zayn is sitting on Harry’s bed, one of Liam’s stupid movies playing on mute in the background, the air between them thick. Niall is gone and Harry is humming "Forrest Gump" absently, not looking up, like he doesn’t know what those lyrics mean cause he does, he has to with how many times he’s hit rewind on Zayn’s iPhone.

Zayn thinks he should say something; ask permission as he sits on his knees, turning to face Harry. He really thinks he should at least make a point to state what he’s going to do when he turns Harry’s face to look at his, rubbing his thumb over Harry’s cheek gently. Even when their foreheads touch and Zayn breathing all of Harry in, he still feels like he should maybe say, “Is this okay?”

But when Harry leans up and tentatively touches his lips to Zayn’s he’s glad he didn’t say anything, because he’s out of words. It’s just _Harry_ and they’re kissing and it’s perfect, everything is perfect.

2

So everyone knows that Zayn and Harry know and things are still weird, but admittedly less weird.

They don’t change how they act too much around the boys, except now Zayn doesn’t for a second hide the stars in his eyes when Harry walks in the room, and Harry can’t think to hide the blush that creeps up onto his cheeks when he can feel Zayn staring at him, that “l-word” feeling always tingling on his lips.

The second time they kiss, Zayn takes them out (with Paul beside them) to a really nice, 5 star restaurant in a city whose name he’s too arsed to remember. He has someone call ahead, feed them his credit card information over the phone to close the whole restaurant down just for him and Harry, and on the drive there he freezes up, wonders if this is too much for a first date.

But this first date is far over due and it’s _Harry_ , he can’t think of sparing any expense for this boy, his curly haired man. _His._

“Zayn, there’s no one here.” Harry whispers as they walk in, a row a waiters and the restaurant’s manager eagerly awaiting them when they walk in the door. Zayn smiles meekly, rubbing his sweaty hands on his thighs. “I hope it’s not too much, I…I just wanted us to have some privacy, ‘s all.”

The manager shows them to their table, candle lit, and Harry sits down, grinning from ear to ear as waiters move around them seamlessly, pouring them both glasses of red wine, offering them menus.

“This is crazy!” He squeals at Zayn, peeking over his menu. “Oh, Zayn.”

They eat what is easily the best meal of their lives until they’re stuffed up to their eyeballs, tummies sore from food and laughter. Harry pouts his lip at Zayn to bribe him into sharing a slice of tiramisu, and without resisting much at all Zayn moves his chair over to Harry’s side of the table and presses himself close, their legs and shoulders touching.

Zayn orders them Vin Santo wine after Harry starts to tuck in, (proper for their dessert, much to the surprise of the waiter and Harry) and when their glasses come he holds his up.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” He stares at his glass for a second before looking at Harry fondly. “To making up lost time.”

Harry pauses, placing his fork down before clinking his glass with Zayn’s, looking at him inquisitively. They drink, eyes locking throughout. “For what? And how much time has been lost?”

“Well I’m shite at maths, but every second it’s been since July 23rd, 2010 until right this very moment,” Harry’s jaw drops a little, bright green eyes shiny. “It’s uh, well, the day I knew that one way or another I’d always have you in my life.”

Harry absently rubs a hand over his heart, feeling the words pang in his chest almost painfully. “ _Zayn._ ” He breathes, not knowing what else to say.

Zayn bites his lip and lean forward like it’s second nature, rubbing their noses together before he kisses Harry gently, chastely as their first kiss but with a secret hidden in this one; the school boy crush he’s kept tucked away this whole time.

Harry kisses back, slowly sucking on Zayn’s lower lip before his tongue peeks out to roll over the soft skin. Zayn’s tasting and feeling everything at once, the mascarpone and sweet wine and something just irrefutably _Harry_ and just sighing into his mouth, tongue smooth against his.

Harry is the one to pull away after a few moments, a sweet smile slowly coming onto his face.

“You are just something else, Zayn Malik.”

3

When the boys finally catch Harry and Zayn kissing, they really don’t make a big deal about it. Actually they down play it to the point where it’s annoying, really.

Harry goes to Zayn’s hotel room, since Zayn pulled the shortest straw to get the lone single. They hadn’t planned to spend the day off alone per say, but after Harry woke up at half-eight, his body’s idea of “sleeping in,” he figured that was enough time away from Zayn.

He uses a spare key to sneak in, finding Zayn scrunched into a seemingly uncomfortable position for a bed so big, still sound asleep. Harry walks over to him quietly, bending down to press his lips against Zayn’s nose, giggling when his face wrinkles up.

Zayn cracks an eye open, offering a sleepy smile. “Hey,” he rasps, unfolding his body to stretch only a little. “What’s goin’ on? Have I slept too late?”

“No, no, it’s half eight or so. I couldn’t sleep anymore.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and lifts a corner of the white comforter up as an invitation. “It’s before noon? Come for a cuddle then while I sleep.”

Harry snorts, taking his shirt off before climbing in bed next to him, letting Zayn essentially lay on him like a body pillow. “You won’t wake up for me?”

“Baby, you could be the Queen, Harry and Wills and I’d still sleep like that Rip Van Tinkle bloke.”

“Winkle, Zee.”

Zayn kisses Harry’s collarbone, brings him in closer. “You know what I mean, Haz,” He grumbles. “Sleep for me, come on.”

Zayn’s breathing evens out a minute later and Harry figures he might as well try to sleep, since he’s not moving again until Zayn does. He realizes this is the first time they’ve ever been together alone in a bed and he smiles as he closes his eyes.

Within 30 seconds Harry’s out like a light.

*

Zayn ends up waking up first 4 hours later, his nose in Harry’s neck. He looks up and almost laughs at Harry out cold, appearing to be so little, so delicate. He unsticks himself from Harry and goes for a piss, brushing his teeth after out of a self-conscious habit. And maybe gave a little care to at least make sure his hair was moving all one way.

When he returns, Harry is awake, scrolling through Twitter on his phone. Harry looks up and grins, beckoning Zayn over.

“Come snug for a minute. The boys are already up tweeting, they’re gonna come and find us soon enough.”

Zayn swears as he gets back under the covers, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist, turning his body to face him. “I don’t want them to come, Hazza. Just a day of kisses a cuddles with you.”

Harry abandons his phone and chuckles, his eyes narrowing on Zayn’s lips. “Let’s just make the most of it until they do, yeah?”

Zayn smirks and lets Harry lean in to kiss him first, his eyes fluttering shut, lips sliding together like they were made for one another’s. His threads his fingers in Harry’s hair, rubs at his scalp between the luscious curls, smiles through their kiss when Harry purrs his delight.

They kiss languidly like they have this moment forever, tongues moving in slow motion, teeth catching on lower lips and hums of pleasure roll from one mouth into another. It doesn’t take Zayn long to figure out that Harry likes those little kisses in between long snogs, like an intermission of sorts. He smiles the first time it happens, and he whispers how good of a kisser Zayn is before delving back in again, being the aggressor before he relents, liking to be lead.

It’s new for them to snog proper like so, since they’ve never had the time for something like this. And Harry’s not sure what to touch and Zayn doesn’t want to touch _too_ much, so they aren’t really touching at all, problem solved. Aside from Harry’s hand on Zayn’s elbow, and Zayn’s fingers carding through Harry’s mane, it’s almost comical what occurring from the neck up. But it’s okay, this is okay.

Harry brushes his hand over Zayn’s face, his stubble grazing a little on his skin. He’d never admit it but he’s jealous of how Zayn can grow facial hair, look so rugged and bad boy while his skin stays baby smooth, occasionally pocked with signs of adolescence. He’ll never shake that image, he ponders, as Zayn nips at his lower lip a little. But that’s okay, too.

“Oi! Quit your mating!” Louis shouts, bursting through the door that connects their rooms. Zayn groans, tucking Harry’s head under his chin and pulling them under the covers before Lou dives on the bed, Niall and Liam thudding down along with him.

“If we stay quiet, maybe they won’t even know we’re here.” Harry says in a semi whisper, giggling as the boys turn on the tv, continuing their conversation from before. Zayn kisses his nose, pulls his body closer. “Let’s try.” He mumbles against Harry’s lips, falling into how soft and plump they always seem to be.

A corner of the comforter is lifted, somewhere near their feet, and Harry protests at the cold by kicking wildly.

“Was tha’ they’re doing Ni?”

“Having a snog is all. Harry’s still got his knickers on.”

Zayn actually laughs this time, his head popping out from their blankets as Harry flips Niall off, flips them all off because they’re all laughing at his choice of under garments, when he chooses to even wear them.

“They’re shorts, thank you very much. Why are you here?”

Louis snorts, the clicker in his hand as he stares at the telly.“Yeah, alright mate. And because we’re bored.”

Harry elbows his side. “Well, do you mind? We’re just trying to lie in today guys…”

Liam climbs off the bed, goes to the mini fridge. “That’s what the kids are calling it these days, huh?”

“Come off it Liam,” Zayn begs, exasperated. If Liam won’t budge there’s no hope. “Just play Daddy and get us some privacy for today.”

Liam resurfaces from the fridge, flat water and an apple in hand. “We’re all resting today, if that’s really what you’re up to…” His sentence trails off as he sips his water, shrugging noncommittally.

It doesn’t take Harry and Zayn much more to leave after that, craftily and purposefully locking themselves in Harry and Louis’ room, much to Louis’ chagrin, to lie on Harry’s bed, kissing and laughing and feeling almost too accepted as _the couple_ in One Direction.

4

The first time they have sex, it’s long after they’ve gotten the whole snogging thing down pat. And it’s hard for them not to, since snogging is all they’ve done.

“You guys really haven’t fucked _yet_?” Louis gawks at Zayn as they walk down the aisles of some rest stop, searching for a few items in particular, on their way to another city that Zayn still doesn’t know the name of. “Might have to start calling you lot Prudence and Chastity, Jesus.”

“God Louis, it’s only been 2 months!” He snaps as they reach the health and beauty section and Zayn grabs a pack of Trojans and a bottle of Astroglide. He faces Louis, almost tired of this argument. “It’s his first time on the boy end of things. And I’m his first boyfriend. I wasn’t going to shove him into that and ruin it for him before he was ready.”

Louis deigns to a good rebuttal, pushing Zayn forward to the register. An older, stout woman rings them up silently, Zayn footing the bill for his items and whatever candy Louis manages to sneak up on the counter.

“Well have you figured out who’s topping, all those details?” Louis asks from around a Blo Pop, while Zayn smokes a cigarette as they walk a little ways away from the station, the bus still in view.

Zayn shrugs, taking a deep drag in. “I didn’t push it. If him topping makes things easier for him, then so be it.”

Louis looks up with a smile. “And now the secrets are revealed, huh Zaynie?” Zayn rolls his eyes, flips Louis off with the cigarette hanging from his lips. “Hey, no need to be mean! I’m glad you’re getting fucked. That makes one of us. Just don’t break our little Hazza.”

Zayn stomps out his cigarette before pulling Louis into a side hug. “I could never in this lifetime.”

*

Zayn lays Harry on the bed gently, and hovers over him on his hands and knees, brushing the curls from his eyes. Harry knows he’s being far too gentle (he’s not _actually_ still a virgin) but he lets him do it anyway, lets Zayn treat him like he’s broken so he can take his time putting him back together.

“This is okay, yeah?” Zayn asks, searching Harry’s eyes for any shadows of doubt or uncertainty.

Harry nods, offers him a smile. “I’m okay. I trust you, Zayn.”

Zayn sighs in relief, lowering himself down to kiss Harry sweetly, his tongue licking its way in when Harry invites it.

Zayn kisses like he sings, Harry muses, as Zayn presses their lips closer, deepens the kiss. He goes for it like he doesn’t care if he makes a mistake, and he never apologizes for something that he’s done because even when he messes up, he knows he’s still better than most. It’s that sly cockiness, that small smile he makes when they’re kissing slow and he drags his tongue across the inside of Harry’s lip and Harry can’t help but to make a little noise. That same sly cockiness when he’s hit a riff that none of the other boys can hit while on stage and he just plays it off like it was nothing, like it’s too easy for him to belt while sitting down, bent at the waist while on a couch.

Zayn will probably be the last person to really ever puff himself up, but Harry knows he really does otherwise. He realizes tonight is probably going to be one for books as far as Zayn’s ego is concerned, but if Zayn can fuck as well as he can kiss, Harry is more than willing to give him that satisfaction.

Harry touches him, careful fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt, not making any real moves just yet. Zayn must find him to be like an ice cube or something but he’s never had to be vulnerable with someone. He’s always the one making some girl’s thighs tremble, making another _CarliSammiNikki_ fall apart under his tongue. He doesn’t know what it’s like on the other side, doesn’t know how to let someone take control.

But he wants this, wants Zayn to lead, wants to know how it feels to let things happen.

“Can I take your shirt off? Is that okay?” Zayn asks suddenly, tentatively.

“Let’s just get naked. Like, just do it already.” Harry knows he didn’t mean to sound hasty but it comes out that way and Zayn shrugs it off, rolling himself off of Harry to undress with just an “Alright.”

Zayn rakes his eyes over Harry’s naked form, makes it so clear that he can’t stop staring to get a laugh out of him. “I guess you like what you see then.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen it a hundred times before,” Zayn remarks, climbing back on Harry, sliding in between his legs. He slots their cocks together and smiles when Harry sucks in air, feels him harden under his stomach. “But not like this, with you getting hard for me like this…hell yeah I like what I see.”

Harry looks in his eyes for any playfulness, but he’s serious. “Kiss me.” He says softly, and Zayn doesn’t think twice to do just that, take his breath away and swallow it for all that its worth.

*

It’s taken Harry a bit of time to focus on anything when Zayn’s mouth finds it’s way between his legs, lips swollen and red and very much around his cock. The hand with the fingers not buried knuckle deep (Harry had no idea it felt this good) in his arse pins his hips down. But that doesn’t stop his back from arching, each of his ribs straining against his skin as he cries, pleads for more when Zayn finds that spot, tells him to _come here_ from within his body.

Harry finds the wherewithal to gasp, “No, no Zayn, fuck, I’m gonna come,” before losing it completely and Zayn whines, reluctant to pulling away but remembering tonight’s objective. Harry’s legs are spread wantonly and his chest is sporting a thin layer of sweat and all Zayn wants to do is lift him up by the arse so his legs are in the air and eat Harry out until he begs him to stop…

But that’s for another night.

Zayn has to ask Harry easily 5 or 6 times if he’s sure about this and if he’s ready and every time Harry just nods yes, not trusting his voice to not betray how nervous he is. He faintly acknowledges that he uses more lube than really necessary but he just wants this to be good, doesn’t want Harry to have any regrets about sex with him.

Harry closes his eyes when he feels the head of Zayn’s cock push into him, and tries to relax, remembers that this isn’t some random fuck, this is _Zayn_. He groans and sighs until Zayn’s in, not quite as deep as he could be, but in enough and _fuck._

“Are you o-”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up and fuck me, Zayn, so help me God.”

Zayn chuckles breathlessly, pushes in a little deeper before pulling back and thrusting in all the way, forcing a moan from Harry’s lips. “Good then.”

Zayn hikes Harry’s legs up so they wrap around his waist and thrusts, gasping at the snug heat around him. “Shit, Hazza, so tight, my God.” He buries his face in Harry’s neck and sucks on his pulse, trying to change his angle enough to find that spot to make Harry scream, wants nothing more than to make this good for Harry.

“Tell me what you want, babe.”

“Deeper, more, Zayn more, just you,” Harry chokes around a moan, hands coming up to claw at Zayn’s back. “Fuck, oh my god Zayn.” Zayn smiles at how fucked he sounds, but Harry clenches around him unknowingly and Zayn nearly jumps out of his skin, stops thrusting to shake his head rapidly. “Jesus, don’t do that again, this won’t last long if you do that again.”

Harry nods, absentmindedly patting his shoulder, breath ragged. “I’m not going to last much longer as is Zayn, please just go, please, I need…” his voice trails off as he tries to grind his hips down, distressed and needy.

“Yeah, okay. God Harry, you’re perfect.”

The well thought out plan of being gentle kind of flies out the window when Zayn starts up again, aiming for _morefucktightgodyes_ as he slams into Harry, relentless and needy. Harry nearly thrashes when Zayn does hit his spot, nails digging into Zayn’s flesh to just offset the pleasure tickling at his nerves. “Again, right there, again!”

Zayn tries to focus on something, anything to drag this out. The air is thick and all he can smell is _Harry_ and all he can hear is cries right in his ear for _morepleaseZaynfuckpleaseI’mcomingI’mcoming_ and it’s too much, everything is too much when he bottoms out inside of Harry and feels his orgasm rise from the soles of his feet and his world fades to black for a sweet, blissful moment.

Everything is _tooslick_ and _toohot_ when Zayn taps back into the real world moments later, feeling like an arse with Harry’s orgasm spread between their chests and no recollection of it occurring, regardless if it occurred before or after his own. “Fuck, Harry I’m sorry.” He’s not sure why he’s apologizing yet, mind still hazy, but he does it any way for good measure as he rolls off of an unresponsive Harry and tries to clean them up a bit with his t-shirt.

“What’re you sorry for?” Harry finally finds the strength to drawl seconds later, tilting his head up to look at Zayn next to him.

“I was a bit selfish towards the end, no?”

Harry shrugs, a sated smile on his face. “I think you fucked me boneless and I’ve never come harder before in my life. But I mean if that’s you’re idea of selfish then please, be my guest…”  

Zayn cuffs his ear lightly and moves to lay next to him, pulling him close for a cuddle. “Don’t take the piss, Harry. Do you mean it?”

Harry rolls his eyes with the air that can only be acquired from knowing Louis Tomlinson. “I love you, you tosspot. Of course I meant it.”

Zayn’s heart feels like it’s in the process of growing 3 sizes and he sighs as he kisses Harry, wanting to half beat himself up for not doing so while they were having sex, and knowing that even if Harry did notice that, the way he’s kissing him now is no indication. It’s all a reflection of his sentiment and Zayn’s chest is really fit to burst and all he can do is kiss him, hard, make sure Harry knows he means the same before he actually says it.

It’s not the first time Harry’s told him he loves him, but it is the first time he’s saying it as a couple, and it doesn’t get better than that.

5

When Zayn whisks himself and Harry off to Barcelona for a week after their tour ends, they’ve got the whole relationship thing somewhat together.

Except for the whole “coming out” thing. Minor detail.

It’s a lot of Zayn leading and learning and Harry going along with things, and a lot more secrets. Harry wasn’t ready for it, especially the lie-telling and having his hands itch when he and Zayn are in public because he can’t touch him, can’t lean on his arm and rub his elbow, kiss his cheek and say “I love you, Zee.” Zayn felt it too, of course, but there’s an image to uphold, there’s always an untruth to sustain.

So Zayn did the logical thing and told no one, not even Harry, that he had bought them tickets to Barcelona. When they got to the airport in Florida he stopped everyone to say their goodbyes, because he and Harry were not coming back to London, no, they were adults that were taking their own vacation. And Paul flipped a shit and management was livid and really, once Harry got over the shock of Zayn’s surprise, they were already through customs and catching their plane to Spain and that was that.

*

“Zayn.”

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

Zayn looks at him puzzled, squeezing his hand tighter as they walk down La Rambla, looking for somewhere to stop to eat. “What d’ya mean Haz?”

“You’re holding my hand and we’re out, Zee.” His voice is a whisper, eyes looking around for what Zayn assumes is cameras, but not once letting go.

Zayn smiles, stopping them both and taking Harry’s other hand in his. “Look at you, babe,” Zayn frets, taking in his distressed form. “I can’t hold my boyfriend’s hand in public?”

Harry sighs, shrugging. “We’re really not supposed to Zee, what if someone-”

Zayn swoops in and kisses Harry, holds his face steady as their lips just touch sweetly, cutting off any what ifs for _what next_ because fuck it, he’s a person with feelings. And what he feels for Harry is more than he’s ever felt for another person, can’t picture himself kissing anyone else like this.

Harry backs away a little, flustered, but Zayn knows he wants more. “We can’t, Zayn.”

“We can do whatever we damn well please Harry. I’m not going to let them have us anymore. And you shouldn’t either! We’re young and we’re fit and we’re in love and why should we let anyone try and stop us?” Zayn’s got that smile on, the one he only gets when he’s talking about Pokémon with someone as obsessed as he is, and Harry has to laugh, pulling him into a hug just to nestle in his neck right where he feels safe.

“What am I gonna do with you, Zayn?” He mumbles, his arms tucked into Zayn’s chest. Zayn squeezes him around the middle and it’s like protected doesn’t even cover how Harry feels, how Zayn never fails to just keep him secure from within his arms.

“Love me. Kiss me now like I know you want to. Be with me no matter what they say.”

Harry gives Zayn that look, the one that searches for a joke even after dating so long and being friends for even longer. And like always, Zayn just looks back with that glint in his eye that gets Harry’s heart racing. “You really want it to go down like this?”

Zayn kisses him again as his answer, saying everything and nothing in a flash of tongue peaking out to swipe at Harry’s lip, a gentle suckle when it finds its way into Zayn’s mouth.

This is their confession, the only way they can make their feelings make any kind of sense. It’s lips and teeth and tongue and those sighs and moans that make everything _HarryandZayn_. And that’s just so okay. 

“As long as it’s with you.”

 

 


End file.
